


a night without living without

by admiralty



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, First Time, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Masturbation, RST, Smut, guess it finally rained sleeping bags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiralty/pseuds/admiralty
Summary: At one side of this sleeping bag, there was fear and uncertainty and confusion, not to mention a complete and utter lack of body heat. But at the other… well, at the other there was warmth and comfort and Mulder. She was no mathematician, but here and now, this equation felt extremely simple.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 52
Kudos: 362
Collections: X-Files Smut Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	a night without living without

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suilven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suilven/gifts).



> Prompt: Heavy petting unexpectedly leads to their first time or Mulder and Scully get stuck in a closet or somewhere with limited room and things get heated (sexy times could resume somewhere else afterward with more space to make the logistics easier lol)
> 
> Andrea, I was so excited to get you. You are one of the most talented writers I know and I truly hope you love this story. xo
> 
> Thanks to my betas: Nicole, Monika, Fiona, Kasey & Cecilia.

  
  
  


_Goddamnit, Mulder._

Scully trudged through the forest, kicking twigs aside, slapping mosquitoes that hovered along her arms and legs. She’d sworn she would never go into the woods with him again; it had never ended well for the two of them. She was sticky and tired, and she knew that regardless of how this trip went, the best possible outcome would be some kind of vague sighting of a creature she knew didn’t exist. Mulder would insist it was one thing, she another, and they’d leave it at yet another impasse.

It was always the same. History tended to repeat itself when it came to her and Mulder, and she never seemed to learn. It occurred to her that maybe she didn’t want to.

“Just a few more minutes, Scully,” he promised, a few paces ahead of her. “Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t a Scout, Mulder.”

He pushed some branches aside and held them, waiting for her to pass him. “Technically, you are correct. I was an Indian Guide. But you still trust me, don’t you?” he teased, cocking his head to the side and flashing that smile that seemed to have the power to convince her to do anything. 

_Anything_ apparently included spending her weekend in the forest looking for Bigfoot. It had been a typical Saturday morning; she’d barely brewed her coffee when he’d turned up at her door with that very same grin and a rental car full of camping gear, asking her to join him. If she’d told him no, she would have sat in her apartment all weekend wondering if he’d gone without her anyway, knowing damn well he had, and worrying about his safety. But all she’d really had on her agenda was a hot bath and a book, so she’d agreed, leaving behind the prospect of a lonely weekend to go ’squatch hunting with her impetuous partner. 

One of these days, she’d stop saying yes to him, she promised herself. But today apparently wasn’t that day.

“You know, when I was a kid, I found a sasquatch footprint in the mud, Scully,” he claimed. 

“That sounds fascinating.”

“It’s true!” He reached out for her hand to help her over a particularly unwieldy rock, and while she rarely accepted chivalry from men, somehow alone in the woods with Mulder it felt okay. “Camping with my dad in beautiful British Columbia. It was by the Mogoagogo River. Have I told you this story before?”

“I don’t think so, Mulder.”

Scully tried not to tune him out as he wove his tale, but it was difficult. The sun was barely visible above the mountains, its golden light spreading out across the tops like caramel on a sundae, and despite the reason for their expedition, she couldn’t help but find their surroundings beautiful. Night would be falling soon, however, and she could feel its chill already, like a promise. 

“Do you have anything to eat?” she interrupted whatever he was saying, her belly rumbling in protest. 

“Uh… maybe a granola bar?” He looked slightly hurt that she hadn’t been listening to his story. “But I think we should push on for a bit longer before we set up camp, Scully. Then we can bust out the big guns.”

“Big guns?”

“Baked beans,” he grinned. The thought of sleeping in close quarters with Mulder after eating nothing but baked beans wasn’t a situation she was looking forward to at all. She wondered if he’d planned it this way simply to torture her. She’d throttle him if he wasn’t so goddamn attractive.

“You owe me a pizza with everything on it when we get back,” she grumbled. 

“Why the sour puss, Scully?” he said, not unkindly. “It’s great out here. No traffic, no schedules to adhere to, no annoying bosses.”

“No reception,” she pointed out, holding her cell phone up, searching for a signal.

Mulder stopped short and she nearly bumped into him. “You don’t need that out here, Scully,” he said, his voice softening a bit. “It’s just you and me and the stars.” The mood seemed to have shifted around them, a charge in the air. It happened from time to time. But they were both experts at letting moments like this pass them by. “And hopefully an extra-large, simian type cryptid with enormous feet,” he added, glancing around stealthily.

“I think we’re more likely to see stars than your Bigfoot, Mulder,” she sighed.

“I promise you we will see one or the other, at least,” he said with a grin.

He was being sweet, and she appreciated that he was trying to keep her from entirely regretting tagging along. But the more she participated in these types of activities with him the more it was brought to her attention how lonely she actually was. The distraction of Mulder was typically what she needed to divert her attention from the things she didn’t have: primarily and perhaps ironically, Mulder himself. 

The hiking was getting exhausting, and quite frankly, it was getting exhausting living without the things she truly wanted out of life. Seven years of this, of spending every single moment with a man who would rather catch Bigfoot than catch her. She wanted the two of them to change- she’d wanted that for a while- but nothing seemed to be happening. She could hardly blame Mulder for that, either. She was just as much to blame for their stagnancy as he was.

Suddenly, her ruminations were interrupted as her feet gave way and she fell straight down, plunging into icy water. Her ankle connected with a solid mass as a searing pain jolted throughout her entire body.

“ _Scully!_ ” Mulder yelled, responding instantly. “Shit, shit!” He threw his backpack down on the forest floor and rushed to the water’s edge, the bank of what she could now see was a small creek. Why hadn’t she seen it? Why hadn’t she heard it? 

Pain radiated from her ankle all the way up her leg, but she barely had time to register it before Mulder’s arms were reaching around her torso and dragging her up onto the ground beside the creek.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay, Scully,” he said, although she knew him well enough to know it was probably not okay, and he was most definitely wearing his panic face. “Are you hurt?”

“My ankle,” she groaned, even though it was difficult to feel the difference now between the pain from whatever happened to her ankle and the pain caused by the freezing water. From the chill in the air she could tell she’d fallen barely up to her waist, but her whole body was already beginning to feel numb. 

“Is it broken?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know, I don’t think so. But you’ll have to take my boot off,” she instructed as her teeth chattered.

He obeyed, sliding it off as carefully as possible, his face contorting into a grimace that mirrored her own. “Like this?”

She bit her lip to keep from crying out in agony, knowing there was no easy way for him to do this but pushing through the pain, never wanting him to know how much it actually hurt. “Take the sock off too, I need to look at it.”

He peeled the wet sock off and tossed it to the ground, cradling her bare foot gently in his hands. “Does this hurt?” She knew his hands weren’t warm by any stretch but they were certainly warmer than her ankle. 

“No,” she said honestly. The pain, which had turned to numbness, was now beginning to fade with his touch, like magic. “Can you… feel around carefully? I’ll know if there’s a break.”

Mulder gulped. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, please, just do it. Doctor’s orders.”

He gently pressed his fingertips into her skin, moving them around her foot, checking in with every touch. “Is this okay? Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head, and after he’d covered pretty much her entire foot she was satisfied the ankle at least wasn’t broken. “Probably just a sprain,” she assured him. “I think… I think I can walk, Mulder.”

He helped her get her sock and boot back on, then got up and held her by the forearm, helping her balance as she attempted to stand. She took a couple of tentative steps and it seemed her ankle could hold her weight, but there was no chance they would make it back to the campground by nightfall. She knew it, and as she watched Mulder glancing around nervously at the orange-tinted edge of the treeline, she knew he knew it too.

Her teeth chattered, knowing the proper course. “M-m-Mulder… we have to set up camp as soon as possible. I have to get warm.”

“Okay, whatever you need.” 

They walked for a few minutes, getting as far away from the creek as possible, until they found a somewhat acceptable location to pitch their tent: a small clearing with a flat dirt patch. He dropped his pack and turned to her. 

“I think this is as good as it’s going to get, Scully.”

She nodded her approval and sat down on a nearby log as he went to work quickly, stealing glances behind him every minute or so, checking on her. She didn’t offer to help, knowing he’d refuse it anyway in this situation, so she just sat and watched him. The chill in the air was getting more and more insistent, and she tried valiantly to keep Mulder from seeing how cold she was.

He got the tent up impressively fast by himself— he’d been an Indian Guide, after all— but as he finished she appreciated the fact that he’d done it just in time: the sun had almost completely set and the sky was darkening by the minute. Mulder began tossing their belongings inside the tent. “Get over here, Scully, get inside.”

She obeyed, followed him into the tent, then removed her shoes and wet socks. Turning his back to allow her a bit of privacy as she began peeling off her soaked clothes, he unrolled her sleeping bag. 

Suddenly he stopped, his shoulders hunched, staring down at something.

“Scully.”

“W-what?” she muttered. She was so ready to get inside, to get warm, she felt unfairly annoyed with him in the moment.

“Your sleeping bag is wet.”

Her body froze, more than it already was.

“But… the pack is waterproof,” she pointed out.

She turned her backpack over and, sure enough, a hole had torn through it. Water had seeped up through the bottom when she fell, soaking all of its contents. Including her clothing.

_Shit._

“Those little legs strike again, eh?” Mulder cracked, trying to lighten the mood. 

Her only response was a sharp inhale and loud chatter of teeth.

“Get inside mine,” he said, unrolling his own bag. “Quick, come on.” He continued to avert his eyes gallantly as she peeled off her pants, her last remaining piece of wet clothing. Her underwear was still damp and, without any dry options, for a moment she considered just leaving them on for modesty’s sake but her doctor brain took over, knowing everything wet must come off if she was to get properly warm. 

She slipped them off quickly and climbed inside Mulder’s sleeping bag in just her bra, which was mercifully still dry. As she wriggled down as far as possible she could smell his scent clinging to the fabric. The intimacy of it wasn’t lost upon her even in a moment where her immediate physical health should have been paramount.

“That okay?” he asked softly, crouching down beside her. “Does it stink? I can’t remember if I washed it after my last ‘squatching expedition.”

“It’s fine, Mulder,” she assured him. It really was. It had been a long time since she’d had the scent of a live male surrounding her; she'd almost forgotten the effect it could have. She liked it more than she probably should.

Before she could stop herself, she shivered and her teeth chattered once again.

“Scully, you’re freezing.” 

It was a statement, not a question, but there was something else in his voice she couldn’t quite figure out. He sounded determined, almost resigned, and it suddenly hit her that the inevitability of their situation was closing around them both just like the gloom of evening; the fast approaching knowledge that this was only going to go one way. 

One way that involved the two of them getting very, very close.

She shook her head, fighting it. _I’m naked, no, this can’t actually be a thing that happens to us this way._

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine, I’m getting warmer.”

“You’re not going to get warm like that,” he pointed out. “Not enough, at least.”

He left the hard part unspoken: _Let me in._

She said nothing. She knew he was right but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Mulder scratched the back of his head, looking at her, then looking down at her wet sleeping bag, and he honestly seemed to be considering climbing inside it. 

The idea of letting him into the sleeping bag with her was, at first, for her benefit, a benefit she could personally have foregone even under threat of imminent frostbite. But when she realized what he was about to put himself through for the sake of her comfort, she sighed in a resignation that matched his own. She couldn’t actually let him climb into a wet sleeping bag, of course she couldn’t. It would be completely irrational and irresponsible, not to mention detrimental to his own health. And she _was_ freezing. Just the thought of a warm body next to hers seemed almost too good to be true.

Mulder was going to climb into this sleeping bag right next to her, and there was nothing she could or should do to stop that, not if they both wanted to survive the frigid night.

No words passed between them but she could see his eyes in the soft glow of the moonlight as they silently asked permission; as if asking to kiss her on a first date, not asking to help keep them both alive. She nodded, knowing what had to be done, and rolled a little to make space for him. 

She did want to let him in. She wanted to desperately. She just wanted it to be on her own terms.

She heard him sliding off his pants, removing his sweater, all faster than probably necessary. She wasn’t certain what exactly he’d taken off, how naked he was making himself. She was trying her damndest not to picture what she knew very well was a perfectly chiseled male specimen beneath those clothes. She’d seen him close to naked before on multiple occasions, and had tried to think of his body in clinical terms all of those times, as well. Unsuccessfully.

He padded over towards her, crouched down beside the bag, and she heard the telltale sound of the zipper being opened.

Suddenly he was inside, and they were doing this, and the bag seemed even smaller than she thought possible. He wiggled in next to her, zipping the bag closed, and at first she felt the chill from the outside air he’d brought with him. But then, ever so slowly, the heat from his body seemed to pass into hers. She was as close to her edge of the sleeping bag as she possibly could be, not touching him at all. She was certain tomorrow she would have a body-length zipper indentation from her shoulder to her foot.

Mulder stilled, settling his body into whatever position was comfortable for him; she didn’t know, didn’t care. All that mattered was that his presence in the sleeping bag would begin to warm her up sooner rather than later. She could feel heat behind her but it wasn’t enough; she wasn’t close enough to him and she knew it. A few moments of silence passed.

“Scully.”

His voice was barely a whisper, almost a question but not quite.

“Uh huh?” 

“I’m pretty sure the point of this exercise is for you to benefit from my body heat,” he pointed out. “Come on, get next to me. You need to get warm. Unless we’re just doing this for fun, in which case…” 

He didn’t finish the sentence; probably because part of this _was_ a little fun and they both knew it. The sentiment hung in the air between them. 

_Fun_. 

Mulder _was_ fun. He was definitely the more fun half of this partnership. 

“I shouldn’t be making jokes, you’re injured,” he suddenly said. 

She shook her head. “It’s not that bad,” she reassured him. It really wasn’t. Perhaps it was just the distraction of having Mulder’s body so close but she could barely register any pain in her foot anymore.

She didn’t point out the irony of him suggesting this very same albeit hypothetical situation a couple of years ago. She’d wanted to have a little fun with him too at the time, but he’d seemed so surprised at her flirtatious response that she’d quickly backpedaled. She wouldn’t have dared admit to him how much she’d actually wanted it to happen, regardless of the circumstances. 

Now that it was actually happening, she was petrified.

“I won’t bite,” he said. 

His breath was so warm, she could feel it dancing across the back of her neck. But she remained silent, shivering, her words caught in her throat. 

After a few moments she felt his hand softly touch her shoulder blade. It was warm but she still flinched. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “You’re ice cold, Scully.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he insisted. 

She then realized that the harder she fought this, the more obvious the reason for her hesitance would be. She’d been holding back her feelings for him for years, and now it felt like some illicit secret that he could somehow glean from her mere proximity.

She weighed the pros and cons in her rational Scully brain. At one side of this sleeping bag, there was fear and uncertainty and confusion, not to mention a complete and utter lack of body heat. But at the other… well, at the other there was warmth and comfort and _Mulder_. She was no mathematician, but here and now, this equation felt extremely simple.

She sighed, and reluctantly-but-not-really began to slide backwards into his waiting arms, slowly, slowly, when he suddenly muttered “I should… I should probably warn you, Scully-”

_Oh._

The length alone, which she could feel every single inch of pressed against her naked back, was shocking. But more than that was the rigor, which was already betraying his excitement at being so close to her. Or at least, she surmised as much.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just… well, there’s a naked lady in here, in case you weren’t aware.”

She chortled loudly in spite of herself, and even as she sensed her face turning red she felt an odd comfort at Mulder’s reliable way of lightening a tense situation. She could tell from his tone that he truly was sorry, although she’d never let him know how little she actually minded.

 _It’s just biology,_ she rationalized, bringing herself back to reality. _Neurotransmitters. Vasodilation is simply a chemical process and he’s only responding the way any warm-blooded male would._

Scully tried hard, regularly, not to think about Mulder attending to his recreational proclivities. What kinds of women he enjoyed, how he’d select which ones to watch. The way his face would look as he stroked himself, eyes half closed, jaw slack as he brought his release…

_Oh, God. Stop it._

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned a bit, trying to focus on literally anything but Mulder’s enormous boner, which was difficult. It was bad enough thinking about her partner this way in the sanctity of her own space, much less spooned up right against him.

She tucked her legs together, drawing her knees up to her chest as best she could with the lack of space. The motion caused the small of her back to brush softly against him and she stopped.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, then inwardly chastised herself for saying anything; for drawing any attention whatsoever to the raging hard-on burrowing into her spine. 

“No, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He sounded embarrassed. “The last thing I want is for you to be freezing _and_ feel uncomfortable.” 

She felt him shift away from her, and suddenly the loss of his heat affected her more than it had before. Craving his warmth, she instinctively scooted back towards him again until she knew he could go no further and she was flush up against him.

“Mulder, I’m cold,” she said, and the words sounded far more suggestive coming out than she’d expected. “It’s okay.”

She felt his hand rest on her hip; his other one situated beneath her torso, which she’d slid over when she moved closer to him. Cognizant of her nakedness, she bent her legs slightly, coaxing his own legs to bend just behind hers. He was wearing underwear of some kind, which she could feel behind her, but they were doing absolutely nothing to prevent the throbbing erection she sensed nestled just between the tops of her glutes.

She exhaled after what felt like minutes passed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually taken a breath.

“Hey, Scully,” he said quietly. “Look up.”

She did, and saw there was a mesh opening at the top of the tent. The sky was visible; inky blackness that seemed to go on forever, and the moon, and…

“The stars,” she whispered.

“Can’t see that in D.C.,” he said, his mouth nuzzled into her hair. “Told you we’d see something worthwhile, Scully.” It was so intimate, so… romantic, that she could hardly stand it. Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it might give her away completely.

Mulder slid his hand up her side gently, until it was resting on her waist, and for the first time she noticed his naked chest was pressed into her back. 

“Are you… feeling any warmer?” he asked after a while, probably because neither of them had spoken for some time and he couldn’t come up with anything else to say.

“Yes, thank you.” She was. So much, in fact, that she was now quite hot. She was unable to tell the heat from his body apart from the very inappropriate heat coursing between her thighs, and her desire to keep him from knowing how turned on she was suddenly mattered far less than attempting to satisfy that very desire.

And Dana Scully decided, for once in her life, to do something about it. 

She felt his toes move slightly, just barely a brush against her heel, but it was enough to send jolts up her leg. And the jolts were not of pain from her ankle. As she softly pressed her heel back into his foot she heard him inhale slightly behind her.

“Does your ankle hurt?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. She hadn’t played footsie since the sixth grade, but in this moment she wished Fox Mulder was half as perceptive as her last sparring partner. 

“No, it’s okay, Mulder,” she said. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

It seemed he needed more; hints were unacceptable in such a compromised position, and while her attempts to get him to reciprocate were becoming increasingly frustrating, she appreciated the part of him that dared not take advantage.

She knew she needed to be clear, but treading carefully was her only option. She lifted her foot and hooked it over his, pulling her knees up slightly and locking the two of them together somewhat. Doing this drew him even closer to her, pressed his aching need even harder into her lower back. She’d suddenly never been hornier in her entire life, and nothing, not the dull pang in her ankle, not the cold, not seven years of restraint could stop her from taking this as far as she possibly could.

She moved her arms up a bit, removing the barrier between his resting hand and more delicate territory, and shimmied her body downwards slightly, giving him what she hoped was encouragement.

He took it.

His hand moved slowly from her waist up her torso until it was resting on her ribcage, and there he stopped. His thumb was so close to the underside of her breast she could practically feel it, and suddenly her mind was filled with all the images she preferred to keep out of the workplace; out of any place where she was within spitting distance of the subject of those fantasies. There was no distance anymore, but somehow the millimeter between Mulder’s thumb and where she wanted him to touch her still felt like a more tedious expedition than the one they’d embarked upon to find a mythical forest-dwelling creature.

It seemed he wanted to take that journey as well but was waiting for her green light. She wanted this so badly she suddenly lost all sense of rationality, any and all thought of the consequences and slowly dragged her foot up his calf, then down again. Nothing. She did it again, and thought she might have heard the softest sigh coming from behind her, but still he did nothing. Finally, in desperation, she did it once more while pressing her backside assertively into his erection and, like a reflex, his hand moved to cup her breast fully. She nearly cried out in relief.

At first he just held his hand there, perhaps unsure of what to do. This was the two of them after all, exploring territory they never had before, and certainly this was the biggest step they’d ever taken. But then, most likely because she hadn’t recoiled or slapped his hand away, he began to gently massage her breast, softly lifting, testing its weight in his hand. It felt so good, his touching her like this; so utterly right, and when his thumb rolled over her nipple, she could feel it hard and wanting, straining through the sheer fabric of her bra, reaching for him.

He grunted softly, a surprised, awed sound, and rocked against her backside gently. She rocked in return, giving him some clearly much-needed friction as well, and they wriggled quietly together inside the sleeping bag in perfect unison, his thumb gently caressing her nipple as her bare ass cheeks slid against the thin layer of fabric between her and his rigid cock. 

They rocked together and he held her breast in his hand, his breathing picking up behind her. For a while they did this, slowly but rhythmically, as if it was as far as he wanted to take it, or dared. But she was the daring one tonight. She wanted to prove that to him more than she’d ever wanted to prove anything in their entire time knowing each other.

His cock was so, so hard and her mind went wild thinking of what it might feel like plunging deeply inside her. She lost all semblance of propriety and reached around behind her to find him, just as large and girthy as she’d expected, even through his underwear. As she wrapped her hand around him she felt him react with a jerk, and she drew her hand away quickly, wondering if perhaps she’d crossed a line. But he took her hand in his and moved it up in front of his mouth where he breathed on it, and she smiled in understanding, letting him warm her hand up. As he did so, she continued to reverse-hump his dick as he slid it between her ass cheeks, up and down, up and down.

She was not cold anymore.

He released her hand and she grabbed him again, this time inside the confines of his boxers. The angle was awkward but she couldn’t care less as she explored his length with her fingers, attempting to visualize every surface, every ridge in her imagination. He formed no words but she could hear him groaning right behind her, reacting favorably to her actions. Somehow this felt right, for now; like they had finally crossed an imaginary boundary but neither wanted to bear witness. Looking with her own eyes, seeing it, made it real. She wasn’t sure how prepared she was to deal with that. 

She stroked him firmly, running her thumb over his head to catch a bit of his precum, fighting the instinct to bring her thumb to her own mouth to taste him. She wanted to put her lips around his cock so badly but that would require turning around, actually facing him, and they weren’t there, not yet. 

He then stopped her ministrations, moving her hand away from him. He brushed her hair away from her neck, so softly, and began placing gentle kisses there, across her scar. Every so often his tongue darted out to taste the sweat that was rapidly gathering and suddenly she knew: this wasn’t simply two lonely humans dry humping each other in the quiet night to give each other a little bit of release. This wasn’t mercy, or pressure, or any of the things she’d feared for years might be the thing that drove them to this point. This was something else. It was something written in the stars; something that had perhaps been fated for the two of them since the beginning.

It was love, it had to be. They’d always been so close and yet so far away from it.

Her sex throbbed; she wanted him to touch her there so badly she felt her legs opening a bit, just a bit, and part of her was ashamed of wanting him so wantonly, letting him know how much with her actions. But he eased her fears when he expertly ran his fingertips down her abdomen, making her entire body quiver. Just this motion affected her so much she almost didn’t even care whether or not he entered her, but then he leaned into her ear and whispered in a voice softer than the fluttering of a moth’s wings.

“Can I touch you?”

They were the first words either of them had uttered since this began, and the idea that he still felt the need to ask even after allowing her to jerk him off made her heart stir; they were really doing this, and he wanted to be doubly certain it was what she wanted.

_If he only knew how much._

She nodded, breathed _yes_ , and barely even processed what was happening as his hand delved lower and lower until he was running his middle finger along her wet seam. First one finger, then two, slid easily inside her. She lifted her hips as much as she could to accommodate him as he fucked her with his fingers: gently at first, then picking up speed and urgency as she humped the palm of his hand.

His other hand, which had been idle underneath her body, reached in front of her to play with her breast, pulling down the cup of her bra and flicking her hardened peaks, first one, then the other, like she was a cello and he was rehearsing some kind of symphony of arousal. Her nipples were so hard it was actually painful, but it was the best kind of hurt, and she cried out, urging him on.

 _This is happening, this is really finally happening,_ she thought as her eyeballs began to roll backwards into their sockets. She was so aroused she could hear the sounds of her hot slip as he pleasured her, and when he withdrew a finger to tease her sensitive bundle of nerves she nearly exploded.

_Mulder is about to make me come, Mulder is about to make me come._

“Fuck…” she murmured, and once it was out she couldn’t hold it back again. “ _Fuck, Mulder!_ ”

He gripped her close to his body, relentlessly fingering her clit with one hand, the other still clutching at her breasts, and as she crested she pictured his face: every curve and contour she knew as well as her own, and the love she felt for him only deepened as she fell apart in his arms.

Breathing heavily, she relaxed her body against him as she took his hands and held them between her own. He kissed the back of her neck again, then down, down along her shoulders, kissing her anywhere he could reach. When he got to her earlobe and began to nibble on it she thought she might pass out from euphoria.

“You smell so good,” he mumbled.

She couldn’t believe him, after a day’s worth of hiking and trudging through the woods, that anything about her smelled in any way “good,” but from the way he was greedily swirling his tongue around her earlobe and taking tiny nips with his teeth she figured whatever she smelled like, he definitely seemed to be enjoying it.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” he insisted. He kissed her shoulder again, ran his hand along the hourglass curve that led from her breast to her ass, back and forth, like the opportunity to touch her in any way was an opportunity he refused to squander.

“Was that the kind of fun you were expecting on this trip, Mulder?” she breathed, and he chuckled softly into her ear.

“No, I never in a hundred years would have expected that,” he admitted. “But I would have waited a thousand.”

His words touched her deeply, to think that indeed he’d been anxiously awaiting this moment for perhaps as long as she had been. The timing was somehow finally perfect, the boundary had been crossed successfully.

Now she was ready to face him.

She turned, making the active decision to look him in the eyes. It was difficult to do in the darkness but the moon shone brightly through the mesh roof of their tent, illuminating the very face she’d fallen so in love with over the years. It was like her feelings had been brought to a slow, rolling boil, and now there was no turning back.

“There you are,” she smiled. She’d always needed visual confirmation in order to acknowledge anything remotely fantastic or unbelievable, and this was no exception. 

She brought her hand to his brow, pushing back an errant strand of his dark brown hair. His forehead was beaded with sweat and she leaned forward to kiss him there, the way she had before in safety, in friendship. But now there was no more safety, no more “just friends.” She didn’t want to go back there, not anymore: all she wanted was more of this, more of him. She wanted to know every inch, every pore. 

Her chaste kiss turned into something else as she began to plant sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all over his face, and he groaned and closed his eyes as she panted next to him. 

“Scully,” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“I want to taste you.”

She grinned at him and obliged, leaning into him, and had an extreme sensation of déjà vu as their lips approached each other’s. But this time instead of an unwelcome bee sting on the back of her neck she instead felt his hand wrapping around it as he pulled her in close and their lips truly, finally touched.

She sank into the kiss, her top lip nestling perfectly above his plump bottom one. It felt as if their mouths had been designed to fit together, and as she parted hers a bit to better allow him to taste her, their tongues met halfway, his softly massaging her own in what felt like something well-practiced. She couldn’t stop herself from letting soft sighs of rapture escape, and he mirrored hers with his own. She could kiss this man for hours, she decided, _hours_ , and be perfectly content.

Time seemed to stop as they explored each other’s mouths, and he brought his other hand to the side of her face, rubbing his thumb against her cheekbone delicately. She hooked a leg over his side so that he was pressed against her sex, and moved against him again, her clit dragging up and down his hard length. She was positive she was completely saturating his boxers but equally positive he wouldn’t mind.

“Scully…” he whimpered into her mouth, and she could tell what she was doing was slowly driving him mad. She was used to having that effect on him, however, even in decidedly un-sexual scenarios, and merely moaned in response, provoking him further.

Her own hands were free to roam his body so they did, first tracing his collarbone, then down his chest, across his toned abdomen, to the top of his boxers. She dipped her index finger into the elastic waistband and, grinning into his mouth, playfully pulled it out and let it snap against his skin. He reacted with a chuckle, and reached down to grab her by the wrist.

“Not so fast, I said I want to taste you.”

She wanted to say _I thought we just did that_ but didn’t. Because as soon as the thought entered her mind she knew exactly what he really wanted.

“I don’t see how you’re going to be able to do that in this sleeping bag, Mulder, although I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you try.”

He smiled at her and raised an eyebrow, then guided her hand by the wrist down, down, back to her dripping wet center. As she looked into his eyes she knew what he was telling her to do, and just knowing what was about to happen made her conveniently wetter.

“ _Oh._ ”

She inserted her own finger between her labia and collected a bit of her own arousal, and as she lifted it back up to his lips she thought she might come just from the look of desire in his eyes, the moonlight reflected within them like a flickering campfire. 

Then he opened his mouth, closing his wet lips around her coated finger and sucked. His eyes drooped in ecstasy as he discovered one more truth, and she was more than happy to follow him on this quest as she pulled her finger out and chased it with her own lips. They kissed now with insatiable fervor, and she relished this new intensity, the way he devoured her with unbridled passion. It was no longer soft, it was no longer sweet. It was a craving that they both needed satisfied as their bodies writhed together, twisting the sleeping bag tighter and tighter until it was actually crushing them even closer together.

Her body was drenched in sweat, and it was so hot now in the bag she was beginning to feel somewhat claustrophobic. Their previously established goal of warming her up had been accomplished tenfold, and she now, in fact, needed to cool down.

“Mulder, I need to get out of the bag,” she huffed. “Now.”

She found the zipper and pulled it down, all the way down, the sound oddly erotic, as if it meant a promise of what was to come. She flipped it off them and down to the floor, creating a makeshift blanket, looking down at him.

“You’re going to get cold again,” he pointed out.

“Then keep me warm, Mulder,” she replied, and his delight in hearing her be the one to actually flirt with him was evident even in the dim moonlight. She reached around her back and unhooked her bra, the last vestige of any sort of physical barrier on her person, flinging it aside.

He lay there, the massive tent in his boxers almost humorous. She was going to make a joke, some kind of Mulder quip about a tent inside a tent or something of that nature to further impress him, but she was mesmerized by his facial expression, the way his eyes roamed her body as if he’d actually discovered Bigfoot, and not merely a pair of naked breasts.

Then she realized that perhaps to him, her breasts were as rare a discovery as any mythical creature he could ever hope to find.

“God, you’re exquisite,” he said. “Do you know that?”

She blushed, which she was grateful he probably couldn’t discern in the moonlight. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her down on top of him. His hand went to the back of her skull, raking through her red tresses, pulling it between his fingers. She ground against his cock as he used his other hand to slap the porcelain curve of her backside, squeezing it, pulling her against him in rhythm. Her head was swimming with a million thoughts but the one that went something like _I’m about to fuck Mulder, I’m about to fuck Mulder_ was the loudest.

She pulled away from him for a moment, looked into his eyes. “Mulder, are we…” she wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence but she found it somehow easier to, now that they’d crossed all of the lines they already had tonight. “Are we really going to do this?”

“I think we already are, Scully,” he said, grinning devilishly. 

“You know what I mean,” she said, and suddenly his smile disappeared and he looked serious once again.

“Yes, we are, Scully,” he said softly, reaching up to swipe away a fiery strand of her hair. “And if you want to, we can do it again tomorrow, and again the next day, and again until you tell me to stop.”

She caught his hand as it moved against her cheek, holding it there, closing her eyes. 

“I don’t want you to stop,” she said with absolute certainty. She smiled, and then hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down slowly. Revealing him to her fully was something she wanted to savor, to enjoy, and when she pulled them off she looked down at him in all of his exquisite glory, standing at full attention, proud and waiting.

She reached out to touch him and this time her hands were no longer cold. She trailed her fingers down his length, verifying his existence, then gripped him firmly, never taking her eyes off his as she lifted her body up, aligning them together. She hovered over his tip and closed her eyes, enjoying the heat of want and expectation that coursed between them. She lowered herself just enough to connect them to one another, and Mulder inhaled sharply.

She leaned down over him, her face close to his, and tilted her head.

“You ready?”

“Hell, yeah,” he nodded.

She grinned. “Make me see stars, Mulder.”

She slid down, practically impaling herself on him, letting out a loud cry of pleasure as his head hit the upper wall of her cervix, filling her completely. It was too much, almost too much, and for a moment she regretted not taking this slower, but then all she felt was the immense and very real gratification of having Fox Mulder buried inside her to the hilt. 

“Is this okay? Am I hurting you?” he said, and her mind flashed to a moment not long ago, before any of this had happened, when he was simply checking her ankle for a fracture.

“No, Mulder,” she assured him. “You’re not hurting me.”

His hands reached up to palm her breasts, and he fondled and squeezed them as she adjusted to his massive size.

“God, you feel amazing,” he grunted. “Perfect.”

Everything about this was perfect, and she began to rock against him as he flicked and pinched her nipples, hard as pebbles from the cold night air, meeting her thrust for thrust. She keened in ecstasy and leaned backwards a bit, placing her hands behind her on his thighs, giving him a slightly different angle as they pounded into each other over and over. His cock was so hard she thought he’d split her in half, and as he prodded her G-spot she felt another orgasm stirring.

 _God, she’d needed this._ It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to be anything but lonely and now she couldn’t imagine going without him for another night.

 _We can do it again tomorrow, and again the next day, and again until you tell me to stop_ , he’d said. 

He wanted her. He wanted her forever.

“Don’t… stop…” she mumbled, more to herself than to him. 

“Yeah, let me hear you,” Mulder said, breaking her free of her thoughts. He moved one hand from her breast down between their urgent coupling and began playing with her clit again, as if he knew how close she was and he had her right where he wanted her. “It’s okay Scully, I want to hear you let go.” 

The combined sensations of his cock sliding in and out of her and his magical fingers at play were indeed too much, and she felt her insides exploding, like a rocket launching. She screamed, loudly, and she knew not what: it may have been his name, it may have been God’s. Whatever she screamed seemed to please him greatly, however, as he moved his hands around to cup her ass and thrusted up into her a final couple of times, groaning and spurting hotly inside her as they both fell apart. She saw stars- ones that she knew weren’t only in the sky above them- and while she was grateful he’d indeed kept his promise, she had a fleeting thought that he could probably send her straight to the moon if he really wanted to.

Collapsing on top of him, she could feel the sheen of sweat that covered her back as he ran his hands along her skin. She swore she saw steam rising off his shoulders and realized it wasn’t only her imagination: it really was cold as fuck inside the tent, and she was only truly feeling it now after they’d both completely spent all of their energy.

Mulder reached over and grabbed the edge of the bag, flipping it over them, co-mingling their sweaty bodies in the newly welcomed heat. He held her close, and she could feel his heartbeat thudding against her own chest. After what felt like minutes, he finally spoke.

“Hey, Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Everything is going to change now, isn’t it?”

She sighed, held him closer. “I don’t think it will, Mulder,” she admitted, to her own surprise. 

“No?” he asked curiously.

“No,” she said, and she meant it. She’d never been so happy to have joined him on one of his adventures. “I’ll still choose you every time.” 

He squeezed her tightly and kissed her lips again, softly. They breathed together, the wind in the trees, sounds of woodland creatures in the night surrounding them. There was no one else around for miles, but she didn’t feel lonely anymore.

He patted her lightly on her backside. “By the way, when we get back to civilization, I owe you a pizza with everything on it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, all feedback is welcomed and appreciated!


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